Six
by Broken Boys
Summary: Dean struggles with anorexia. Wincest.


Dean shook the hands of the small group of people standing around him. He'd miss the constant sense of support and safety. He knew the stresses awaiting outside, but he had tools to cope with them now.

He felt reborn.

"Dean?" a familiar voice asked from behind him.

When Dean turned and saw Sam looking nervous and excited, he felt all the broken pieces finally come together. As Dean held his arms out accepting his brother's embrace, he felt happy.

He felt what it was to be truly happy and whole for the first time in a very long time.

"Are you ready to go?" Sam asked as he walked over to Dean and placed his hands on his shoulders.

"I hate this, Sam. I shouldn't have to do this. You shouldn't have to go through this." Dean knew it was too late to turn back. Yet, the voices in the back of his mind reminded him that it wasn't too late to change his mind. The voices told him that he was still in control. Dean closed his eyes tightly as he wrapped his arms around Sam's warm, solid waist and silently prayed for the voices to quiet.

Sam hugged back, but not too tightly. Dean felt so breakable, fragile in his arms. As Dean pressed against him, all he could feel was sharp angles and protruding bones and he knew Dean wouldn't, couldn't survive much longer in this state.

"Let's go," Dean said as he slowly pulled out of the embrace.

"Okay, " Sam said as he pressed his lips against the soft, thin layer of skin at Dean's temple. "I love you so much. God, I love you."

"I know you do," Dean said as he looked up at Sam with hollow, dark ringed eyes. "Let's go."

Dean took in the solemn faces of the people in the living room as he entered Bobby's house.

"Something wrong?" Dean asked Bobby.

"Please, sit beside me, son."

"Sam?" Dean asked, sunken eyes wide.

"This is Dr. Franklin. You need help. I want you to listen to what he has to say."

Betrayal burned like acid in his gut. His personal demons were private. As he stood to leave, Bobby grabbed his arm. The look in his eyes broke him, and he allowed himself to be tugged down while purposefully avoiding Sam's eyes.

Straightening his posture, Dean glared at the stranger before him.

"I'm listening," Dean said as he struggled to maintain a neutral expression.

"I'm here because these people love you. They have some things they need to say and a gift to offer."

Bobby pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and began reading aloud the short passage. Tears were there, but they did not fall.

"I've watched your health decline and your weight continue to drop. I love you, but I refuse to watch you die. If you don't accept the treatment offered today, I will no longer be active in your life. Please accept so we can be a happy, healthy family."

"Sam?" Dean rasped, throat having tightened listening to Bobby.

The words were memorized, but Sam stared at the paper in his hands to ground himself.

"Words cannot express my love. I would give my life to save you from this illness. You mean everything to me, but I won't sacrifice your life for my desire to be with you. I will no longer be your partner in life if you refuse treatment. I love you, but I will not love you to death."

Dean sat frozen as everything he'd struggled to accomplish crumbled.

He'd saved him before and he'd save him again.

After quickly checking the deathly still body and making sure it was safe to move him, Sam gently rolled Dean onto his back and began CPR. He didn't dare go as deep as chest compressions required. It wasn't that he was afraid of his strength. It was that he was painfully aware of how easy it'd become for Dean to get fractures.

Sam stopped compressions, wrapped his mouth over Dean's and slowly blew air from his lungs into Dean's. Sam sat up as Dean's chest rose and fell. He wasn't breathing. Sam wrapped his mouth over Dean's again and blew. He quickly sat up and once again watched for his brother's chest to rise and fall on its own. Still nothing happened.

Something stronger than fear and colder than dread overcame Sam. It wrapped around his throat and gripped like a vice around his heart, and he no longer cared about cracking ribs. Ribs could heal. Death was permanent.

"Don't die. Don't leave me. Not yet," Sam said to himself as he ripped open Dean's thick nightshirt causing buttons to scatter across the kitchen floor. Sam closed his eyes tight for a moment and imagined Dean as he'd once been, when he'd had flesh and muscle between his skin and bones and hadn't looked like someone who'd been starving himself to death.

"Please don't die," Sam repeated as he began a second round of compressions. He tried to feel Dean's heart beating against his palms, but it wasn't there. He tried to hear Dean's voice laughing at something amusing or yelling at him to 'mind his own fucking business', but the only sounds in the room where the ones he was making.

Sam cried out as he felt the first rib give. He was about to give up and speed Dean to the hospital when he felt a thump, thump against the palm of his hand.

Sam had gone to the bedroom and grabbed the blanket off of their bed as fast as he'd completed the thought. Having wrapped Dean in it and having carefully lifted him into his arms, he was about to step out the door as he heard the soft words Dean whispered into his ear.

"She was so beautiful. They both were."

Sam's shiver had nothing to do with the chill of the night as he ran Dean to the car.

Sam wrapped his legs around Dean's slender waist as Dean's thrusts became faster and they both seemed to be nearing release. Sam's muscles began to involuntarily spasm as he reached orgasm, and he wrapped his arms around Dean as he rode out the pleasurable jolts and waves.

Sam's body was starting to relax, but he could still hear the frustrated groans and feel the warm puffs of air against his neck as Dean pumped in and out of him, trying to reach the peek he just couldn't obtain. It's not that he wasn't aroused. It was as if Dean was too tired, too worn out to push himself over the edge and finish.

"Wait, baby." Sam said as he turned his head so that he could kiss Dean's mouth. "Let me help you." Sam dropped his legs from around Dean's body and carefully flipped them over so that Dean was on his back. Sam quickly removed the condom from Dean's cock and surrounded him with his warm, slick hand.

"Let me help," Sam said as he began to increase the speed of his hand around Dean. It only took a minute before he felt a warm jet of fluid between their bellies and Dean shaking beneath him.

"I'm sorry, Sam. I'm just – " Dean said but was cut off by Sam's lips pressing and moving firmly against his own.

"I know you're exhausted with work and everything," Sam said as he laid down on his stomach beside Dean and rested his hand on Dean's chest. "Have you been feeling okay lately?" Sam asked as he looked at Dean and tried to see something close to what Bobby had expressed concern over.

"I'm fine, Sam. I'm just a little overworked and underappreciated is all," Dean said as he smirked at his own dry sense of humor as he allowed his eyes to fall shut.

"I'm just worried. You've been tired a lot lately." Sam moved his hand slowly down Dean's chest. "You're losing weight again." Sam's hand sloped downward as it moved across Dean's slightly concave stomach and stopped its exploration as his thumb caressed a hipbone that was showing more than it should for someone of Dean's height and build. "I'm worried you're not eating right or enough. I don't want you to get sick." Sam moved his hand back up Dean's body until his fingers skimmed collarbones. He ran his fingertips across them uninterrupted. Dean had drifted off almost as soon as his eyes started to shut, and Sam had been left alone in his explorations and musings.

Dean had always been slim. However, it took Bobby's words for him to realize that Dean was starting to cross over into something different. He didn't seem to be dying or unhealthy. He just needed to eat better and put on some weight.

They could talk about this another time. They could talk when Dean wasn't so busy with work. Sam just couldn't imagine Dean having an eating disorder.

Sam had been telling Bobby that he should come to their new apartment for dinner. But they all had busy schedules, and it took some time before they were all able to get together without having to rush off immediately afterwards.

The three sat comfortably discussing what kept them busy on a daily basis. As they ate, Bobby observed the two he shared a table with in a way only someone who was like family could. Sam seemed to be doing well, even if he couldn't understand how the boy juggled work, school, and his other activities. However, Bobby could see that something wasn't right with Dean. For someone known for being outspoken, he didn't participate in the conversation as much as he listened. He looked drained. And although he'd always been a slim man, he was a little too thin. He didn't seem as interested in eating as he did pretending to eat. He picked up food with his fork but only took a small amount of it off as he placed the utensil in his mouth. He cut food only to rearrange it on his plate. He kept picking up his glass and sipping from it.

It hadn't been his intention to catch him off guard.

"Are you going to eat it or play with it?" Bobby asked, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop them.

Shock caused Dean to accidentally drop his glass, soaking the front of his shirt as he quickly jumped up front his seat.

"Shit," Dean swore as he grabbed his napkin, ignoring the question while wiping at the large stain. "I'm going to change. Please excuse me," Dean said as he left to do so.

"Bobby, what was that about?"

"Has he been ill lately?" Bobby asked keeping his voice low.

"No, he hasn't. Why do you ask?" Sam returned matching his volume.

"Haven't you noticed how thin he's getting?"

"I've noticed. How could I not? But there's nothing to worry about. It's stress. He's been working long hours and pushing himself too hard. He's tired, Bobby. I've been asking him to take time off and relax."

"Sam, you don't think it could be something else?"

"Like what?"

"Haven't you seen how he pretends to eat?"

"What?"

"Sam, you need to talk to him. I can't say he has a problem, because I'm not a doctor, but I know what I see."

"So you've decided from watching him eat once that he has a problem with – with his eating?" Sam asked, raising his voice more than necessary.

"No, he's been doing this as long as we've known him. But with the way he's starting to look, I just put two and two together. And don't speak to me like that, boy. I'm still your elder. I'm only concerned."

"I'm sorry, Bobby. I just can't imagine –"

Dean had heard enough and cleared his throat as he moved into the room as if he hadn't been standing listening to their exchange for the last minute.

"So what were you talking about without me?" Dean asked as he sat down and ate his meal, this time in earnest.

"Bobby was telling me about a new classic car he's working on."

Bobby gave Sam a look that spoke volumes and seamlessly pulled together the pieces of a conversation that hadn't existed and filled Dean in on the details of a car that actually did exist.

Dean ignored his cramping stomach and ate food he didn't need or want. If it took minor discomfort to keep up appearances, he'd do it. It didn't matter anyway. He'd get rid of it later.

~


End file.
